Dragonhide
by Zenog
Summary: The Archmage has a problem, and is scouring Skyrim for the answer. J'zargo, as her most talented subordinate who is still young enough to actually go adventuring, has been dragged along for the ride. This one is... not amused, to say the least. (Rated for boobs and boob-related humor. If this offends you, don't read it.)
1. The Arcanaeum

[Transmission Incoming]

I got bored in summer school, so this happened. Don't worry, though; I'm keeping very good track of my grammar stuff that we're learning. Too bad none of it is new to me. Anyway, when I couldn't remember where I left off on my main stories, this kind of just... popped into my head. So I wrote it. And now you can read it.

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Chapter 1: The Arcanaeum

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"Tolfdir! What in Oblivion is going on?"

I looked up from the book I was reading at the distinct sound of the Archmage's voice. The tall Argonian stalked across the Arcanaeum towards the elderly Nord, anger evident in her bearing.

"Hmmzwah?" Tolfdir started awake at the loud voice. "Whazzat?"

"Tolfdir!"

"Ah, Archmage!" Tolfdir replied jovially, seemingly ignorant of the Archmage's foul temper. "What brings a beautiful young woman like you to see an old man like me?"

" Don't play dumb with me, old man," she hissed venomously. "You created the damn spell, so tell me what in Oblivion this is." She pulled open her robes, and I blushed under my fur and looked away.

"Shor's bones! You say that my spell did this to you?"

"No, Tolfdir, I discovered an obscure Word of Power that- of course your spell did this!"

"This is simply amazing! I must conduct research on this! Is it because you are Argonian, and your scales are better at holding the magic? Maybe it's that you are the Dragonborn, so the spell combines with the dovah sil and dovah sos to create a more powerful and permanent effect. Now, it can't possibly be-"

"Tolfdir." The man abruptly stopped speaking, and I felt myself sit up straighter in my seat from the authority and _power_ in the Archmage's voice. "Research how it happened later. I want you to research how to reverse it. Now." I heard the telltale sound of a bound weapon forming. "Am I understood, College Associate Tolfdir?"

"But- I-" An audible gulp. "Yes, Archmage."

"Good!" I could hear the cheer in her voice, and it was almost sickening. I dared to glance back up and saw the Archmage standing directly in front of me, clothes thankfully back where they belonged. "J'zargo, I need your help. We're going on an adventure!"

Oh, how I hate those words. But she's technically my boss… The things I do to keep my access to the Arcanaeum.

"Very well. You lead, khajiit will follow."

* * *

So yeah. Total crack. Read and review, I guess.

[Transmission Terminated]


	2. Paarthurnax

And it continues. (Warning! Dovahzul ahead!)

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Chapter 2: Paarthurnax

* * *

"Paarthurnax! What in Obl-"

"Drem, Dovahkiin. Your anger clouds your judgement."

While the two talked, I just tried to blend into the background. The Grandmaster of the Greybeards was a dragon? A dragon? It went against almost everything I knew about the world! The Dragonborn killed dragons, not learned from them.

Well, technically. The whole point was that they learned Words of Power from the souls of the dragons they defeated, but that's not the point.

A rumbling laugh brought me out of my musing.

"You are a fool, Dovahkiin!" My hand drifted to the hilt of my sword. "You are certainly of the dovah sil, that impulsive nature could be from nothing else. You would blame others for your own folly, but the fault lies solely with you."

"I'm not blaming you, or Bormah, but I want to figure out how to fix it."

The golden dragon smiled a grin with far too many teeth in it. "You cannot reverse it. Hi fen lahney voth hin daan, Dovahkiin."

"I may have to live with it, but I do not like it, Paarthurnax."

I stepped up timidly, not wanting to gain the ire of the Archmage or the dragon she was talking to. "Apologies, but J'zargo would like to know what exactly is happening."

The Archmage rolled her eyes at me. "Please, you were watching in the Arcaneum. I saw you."

"This one thought it… improper to watch your…"

"Display?" she questioned, eyebrow raised.

"Yes, display. That is the word J'zargo was looking for."

She huffed angrily. "J'zargo, if it weren't for your nighttime predilections with almost every living female in the College - which is a small pool, admittedly - I might assume you were gay. Look, this is what I was talking about."

Again, she pulled her robes open, bearing her breasts to the world. Side thought, why do Argonians have breasts? They're clearly lizards, and no other lizard has breasts… No matter. I tried to look away again, but she grabbed my head and forced me to look.

"...Archmage?"

"Yes?"

"Are those dragon scales?"

"Yes, J'zargo, they are. And they weren't there before I started using Tolfdir's gods-damned armour spell. Trust me; I know what my body looks like."

"So… Tolfdir's spell was able to transform you into a dragon?"

"No, it is turning me into a dragon. It's been spreading ever since I first used the spell like… like… like some sort of disease."

An angry rumble from Paarthurnax. "Do not call our kind a disease, Dovahkiin. We are greater than something as simple as that; we are children of Akatosh."

"Yes, yes, the dov are the superior race, they alone deserve to rule, yadda yadda, we've heard it all before." She waved a hand in the air dismissively. "Fine. I'll figure it out without your help, since you're obviously just going to be spouting Alduin's propaganda. J'zargo!" She turned back to me, closing up her robes once more. "Initiate Plan B!"

"This one is wondering what Plan B is."

"Right," she muttered. "Note to self, tell minions what the backup plans are beforehand to keep yourself from looking stupid." She turned to me and smiled widely. An expression which, might I add, looks rather terrifying when your mouth is that wide and filled with razor-sharp teeth. "We're going to Solitude, of course! Come on! Mu bo! Vosaraan!" With that, she dashed to the edge of the small plateau and jumped over the side. Used to the… peculiarities of the Archmage by this point in my career, I slowly walked to where she had jumped and peered over the edge to see her gliding through the air using her cloak.

"J'zargo would like to ask the large dragon a question."

"Yes, joor?"

"Has the Archmage always been this strange, or has it only been recently?"

"No, the dovahkiin has become… very eccentric since defeating Alduin."

"Very well."

A pregnant pause.

"Khajiit will start walking back down now."

I had almost left the plateau when I heard the low voice of Paarthurnax again. "Ven aak hi, joor."

I paused in mid-step as I dredged my memories of the Archmage's lectures on dovahzul for the meaning of the phrase. When I remembered, I turned back to face him and gave a low bow. "J'zargo thanks you, Grandmaster Paarthurnax."

* * *

Rough translations of the dovahzul used in this chapter:

Drem - Peace

Hi fen lahney voth hin daan - "You must live with your fate" or "you'll live with your fate"

Bormah - Father; the name that dragons use for Akatosh, being the children thereof

Joor - Mortal

Mu bo! Vosaraan! - "We fly! Hurry up!" or "We fly! Make haste!"

Ven aak hi - Literally "Wind guide you"; used as a formal farewell between equals/friends in my headcannon. Because dovahzul is woefully inadequate in its cannon form.


	3. Solitude?

Short chapter, I know. But it had to break here for flow purposes.

* * *

Chapter 3: Solitude?

* * *

"Archmage?"

"Yes, J'zargo?"

"This is not Solitude," I observed, looking around at the snow surrounding us.

"True enough," she replied, "but we're not exactly going there." She pulled a map out of her cleavage - side note, how does she fit so much stuff in her cleavage? - and consulted it for a moment.

"Where will we be going?"

"Hang on, a little bit farther… and… here!" She stopped and turned to her right suddenly and made a grand gesture. "Behold! The Reeking Cave! Also, the secret back door to the Thalmor Embassy."

My eyes widened to almost-comical proportions. "The Thalmor Embassy? We're going to break into the Thalmor Embassy? Have you been stealing my moon-sugar?"

She simply rolled her eyes. "No, we're entering the Embassy through the back door. The even gave me a key the last time I was here," she defends, putting away the map and pulling out a key. "See? Anyway, why would I steal your moon-sugar? Everyone knows that Argonian Bloodwine is the best intoxicating substance in Keizaal."

"Khajiit will stay out here. It is safer among the deadly beasts, freezing cold, and murderous vampires than in there with the Thalmor."

She shrugged. "Your loss. I'll bring you some brandy. Ambassador Elenwen always has the best brandy… Mmm… Cyrodilic Brandy…" She trailed off, eyes glazing over.

I sighed. "J'zargo would like either rum or skooma. Khajiit is attempting to transmute liquids."

"Alright! Back in a bit!" She flashed me a smile, and disappeared into the darkness of the cave.

I waited for a moment to see if she would come back out quickly. "Finally," I sighed out once it was clear she'd be a while. "Peace and quiet."

* * *

Note: Keizaal is the dovahzul for Skyrim


	4. Must Have Been the Wind

Hey look! A new chapter! Also, the longest chapter I've written for this so far (although, chapter six seems to be shaping up to be a big one).

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Chapter 4: Must Have Been the Wind

* * *

"...tshitshitshitshitshitshitshit!" A blue and white blur rushed past me. "J'zargo! Run!"

Being a smart khajiit, I had been ready to run ever since the sounds of explosions and the screams of the damned had begun to drift down from the cliff above me. I quickly caught up to the mad-dashing Archmage; she may have been fast for an argonian, but she was no match for a khajiit, even at a full sprint. "You were not very welcome at the party, yes?"

"Shut… up!" she panted out. "Didn't… expect… them… to try… to kill… me!"

I sighed lightly, although it was hard to distinguish from my normal breathing. "Did you at least get rum or skooma?"

She grabbed my arm and pulled me behind a rock. "No, I didn't-" she pauses for a deep breath and composes herself "-No, I didn't get any damn skooma, you addicted khajiit. Now shut up, I'm going to try to make us invisible."

Slowly, we faded out of view and the snow around us smoothed out into seemingly-natural snowfall. The trio of Thalmor rushed to where the trail ended and began to mill about.

"Huh. Nothing here," one observed.

"Must have been the wind," the second guesses.

"The wind? Really?" Guard 1 replies. "The wind doesn't look like a naked female argonian, nor would it have set half of the Embassy on fire, blown up the other half, killed three of our men by slitting their throats, killed seventeen more in the initial explosion, bested half of the remaining guard detail in single combat, and stolen Ambassador Elenwen's underwear directly off her body!"

"But it could have-" Guard 2 attempts to defend himself before their leader cuts him off.

"Both of you, shut up. She got away, and for that stupid display, the two of you will be reporting to Ambassador Elenwen exactly why our squad failed this mission."

The two guards looked at each other for a moment.

"...Shit."

"This is your fault for bringing up the wind," muttered Guard 1. "Again."

"If you two keep talking, I will have you sand the wood to rebuild the destroyed portions of the Embassy using only your groin and a rusty razor blade. Am I understood?"

The two males gulped. "Yes ma'am."

"Good. Now let's get back to the embassy. We have a report to file."

The trio of guards walked back to the embassy in shame, but heads held high. As if they were convicted criminals headed to the executioner's block but still trying to keep a brave face on.

Actually, that probably wasn't far off.

"So… you did not get any skooma, but perhaps you acquired some rum?"

She sighed and pulled out a small bottle. "No. I said I didn't get you any skooma. I also don't have rum, but for some reason, I found a bottle of this in the kitchen." She handed me the bottle carefully. "Just… Just don't kill yourself with it, okay? You're one of my best Associates."

My eyes widened as I realised that I was holding a bottle of what was probably the largest concentration of Balmora Blue in Skyrim at the time. I carefully stashed it away in my satchel before continuing. "Also, something they said confused J'zargo."

"Yes?"

"The Archmage ran around the Embassy naked? And still had time to get dressed while pursued by angry Thalmor?"

She shifted uncomfortably. "Well, not exactly. You know that I am probably the only one at the College who is more knowledgeable about Illusion spells than Drevis, right?"

"Yes, khajiit was aware of this."

She reached into her cleavage and pulls out her robes of office. The very same ones that I thought she was wearing already. "I'm very good at Illusion spells. Also, I found out that Tolfdir's damn spell apparently helps keep me warm."

"Is J'zargo understanding correctly, then, that the Archmage is doing everything to stop this transformation except stop using the spell causing it?"

She had the grace to look slightly bashful before attempting to defend herself. "It's really a very good spell. I did some research, and it can protect even better than this ebony armor!" Her arm dove between her breasts again, disappearing well past the elbow, and withdrew a full set of ebony plate mail on the return journey.

I held up a hand. "J'zargo must stop you and inquire: how are you doing that?"

She looked confused by the question. "Doing what?" she asked, ebony mail in hand.

"Holding items between your breasts that cannot fit. It made sense when it was only small things, like the key and map, or even the bottle, but a full set of armour? This is absurd."

"Ah!" Her countenance brightened. "Why didn't you say so? Well the answer, of course, is…"

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"...Magic!"

I groaned at the response. "Yes, but how do you do it?"

"How do you fit all of your things into that satchel? I know that you keep at least one stave the length of your body in there."

"Well, that is simple. I…" I paused for a moment, before coming to a shocking conclusion. "I do not know."

"Well there you go! I do it the same way. Now, Tolfdir's trying to figure it out, Paarthurnax won't help, the Thalmor are still trying to kill me, even after all these years, so there's only one place left to go!"

I dared to voice my hopes. "Back to the College and warm beds, no?"

She laughed a little. "Of course not! We're going to Karthspire in the southern Reach to talk to my last contact! Although," she practically purred, her gaze rapidly turning sultry, "if it's a warm bed you're looking for, I'm sure I can help. If you can please even a centuries-old altmer like Mirabelle enough for her to actually brag about it…" She trailed off in a throaty moan, eyes rolling back in their sockets.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat in the snow next to her.

She looked at my expression and laughed. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. I wouldn't say no to a nice, sexy man, but I'm much happier with a woman between my legs rather than wrapped around a man." She stands abruptly and offers me a hand. "Come on, now! This journey won't walk itself!"


	5. Karthspire

What? two chapters one after the other? Why yes, yes it is. I've been very busy not really paying attention to my summer school class in English, and my teacher has been very busy not paying attention to the fact that I'm not actually writing notes on his class.

* * *

Chapter 5: Karthspire

* * *

I looked around uneasily at the savage-looking people around me. "Archmage, where are we going? And why are these people not attacking us?"

"Hmm? Oh, we're going to that cave up there." She gestured to an opening in the rocks about a hundred feet above us. "It's where Esbern lives. And these people aren't attacking because I helped out their King a while back, so I'm a friend; therefore, by extension, you're one, too."

I frowned at the explanation and slipped my hand into my satchel, ready to act if the turned on us, until we reached the cave. "Why is it that this Esbern lives in this cave, hmm?"

She simply chuckled. "Hang on, it's just around this corner… and… Ta da!" She gestured grandly at the ruins, the light from the opening overhead streaming down like a divine spotlight. "Sky Haven Temple, an Akaviri temple dating from back in the First Era, and the original headquarters of the Blades before they became the Emperor's bodyguards."

I stood and stared at the temple in awe. "And… This was just… here? Unspoiled archaeological findings just sitting in a cave, untouched since the First Era?"

She shrugged. "Ehh, not quite unspoiled. There's always the adventurer or two who tries to get into one of these old ruins but gets caught by the traps and/or giant spiders. And technically, the Blades used this up until the Fourth Era, when the Thalmor wiped out the majority of the organisation, so it's been well-maintained up until only the last couple decades. Esbern's been living here since we uncovered it two years ago and has been working on restoring it and researching the history of the dragons and the Blades."

As she talked, we had walked to the doorway that I presumed led to the inner chamber. She paused for a moment, as if suddenly remembering something.

"Oh, and don't antagonise the jester, okay? He's very skilled with his knives, and you won't wake up in time to stop him."

"An assassin, hmm?"

Sh glanced around shiftily. "No, just… very, very sneaky, and very, very insane. Just make sure you don't insult him. Or go into his shrine room, because that would insult him and make him angry. You don't want to see him when he's angry."

With that ominous warning, we stepped through the door.


	6. Sky Haven Sanctuary

Yes, I am aware of the ideological conflicts that would pop up in this situation. Deal with it. I might even write a story exploring this specific incarnation of the Dragonborn's journey across Keizaal and how this all came to be.

* * *

Chapter 6: Sky Haven Sanctuary

* * *

"Babbette! You're better than this!" a mature female voice shouted out.

"But Delphine," a child's voice called back, "this is so much more fun!" A dull explosion echoed in the stairwell that the Archmage and I had begun to jog up.

"You are three hundred years old, Babbette," a tired-sounding old man called out. "Act your actual age, not your physical age, and put the Wabbajack down." A massive wheel of cheese rolled past us down the stairwell.

"But Esbern-"

"Babbette," a deep voice interrupted her, no louder than a normal speaking voice, but still commanding that it is listened to. "Put it down. Now. I'm trying to sleep, and I'm not in the mood for this."

A small sigh, and a muttered "Fine, Nazir" later, and the random explosions stopped abruptly. As we walked into the main room, we saw a young girl, an old, balding man, and a furious-looking blonde woman in black armor glaring at the child. Also, there were no less than seventeen large wheels of what appeared to be goats' cheese, twelve boxes of sweetrolls, and two large barrels filled with small wooden carvings of cats.

"Alright," the Archmage bellowed, "what's going on here?"

"Listener!" "Dragonborn!" "Good afternoon."

"Good afternoon, Esbern. Now, I'll ask again: what's going on here?"

A sigh drifted in from a side room. "Babbette broke into the storage room and stole the Wabbajack. Again. Before you ask, Cicero is in the shrine, doing his Keeper stuff, and I'm trying to sleep because I travelled all night to get back from my last contract. So could everyone please be quiet?"

"Thank you Nazir. Now," she said, turning to the child, "Babbette, what have I told you about breaking into the artifact room?"

"Don't get caught?"

"What? No! That's for murders! Just don't do it. _Especially_ not while Dawnbreaker and Auriel's Bow are _both_ in there. You may be an old vampire and you're used to sunlight, but you are not stronger than _gods_. Those two alone could easily kill you, given the chance, and there's a reason that the Ebony Blade is buried under six feet of solid stone."

"But Listener, it's just the Wabbajack! It's not like it actually does anything _dangerous_."

"Babbette, this is the staff that turned the World Eater into a sweetroll and then dropped an anvil on the sweetroll. And then the anvil exploded into a fountain of boiling-hot molten cheese! The Wabbajack is most definitely dangerous!"

"Even I think you're making that one up, Dragonborn."

"Yes, well you're a close-minded, straight-laced bitch who doesn't even try to get a life."

"You're just saying that because I won't sleep with you."

"So what if I am? You know you want to."

"Excuse me," I interrupted. "Not to get in the middle of this little lovers' argument, but did we not come here for a reason, Archmage, hmm?"

She looked at me for a moment, puzzled, before remembering. "Ah, yes! Esbern, my friend!"

"Yes?" the old man asked apprehensively.

"I need some help with this." She pulled her robe open again, revealing the scutes to now cover her entire torso. Oh, and her breasts. Obviously.

"Well," Esbern began, voice rising a few pitches and a slight blush covering his face, "they seem to be very healthy."

The Archmage rolled her eyes. "The dragon scales, Esbern, not my breasts. I know that they're fine." She then muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "stupid males who can't handle the sight of perfect breasts outside of a bedroom" followed by "not like the Forsworn wear any more than this, the dirty exhibitionists" and "probably why you decided to stay here, you pervert".

He frowned and stepped forward for a closer look. "My word…" he murmured. "Dragonborn, do you have any armor made of dragon scales on you. Or even just normal dragon scales?"

"Of course I do! I'm a dragon-slayer; why wouldn't I have dragon scales on me?" She paused at the poor choice of words. "Metaphorically speaking. The literal sense is the problem I'm here about." She reached between her breasts - her completely exposed, no-cleavage-to-hide-anything-from-view breasts - and… something happens, and she was suddenly holding a full-size kite shield made of dragon scales.

Clearly, the others in the room were used to this kind of thing, and didn't even blink at it. I on the other hand, could feel my mind shutting down at the sheer impossibility of what I had just witnessed.

"...the spell?" I heard as my mind began to start back up.

"Yes, it's already been pointed out to me that the best way to prevent the transformation caused by the spell is to stop using the spell."

"And clearly, you haven't?"

"Look, Esbern, I'm not here to get psychoanalysed. I'm here to see if you can help me."

"No. I can't. I'm a historian and an archaeologist. Not a spellcrafter nor a fellow Master of Alteration. Babbette might have been able to help you if this were caused by some potion, but that's the closest you'll get."

"Fine," she grumbled. "J'zargo, you back with us?"

"Ah… Yes, Archmage. But please don't pull anything from between your breasts while I can see between your breasts again. This one does not believe he could handle it and would end up becoming one of Sheggorath's chosen. The fabric of reality should not fold that way."

"I make no promises. But anyway, since Esbern has proved unhelpful, we're headed back to Winterhold to see what Tolfdir's done."

"This means another month of travelling with you, does it not, hmm?"

"Of course! Now, onwards! Let us ride off into the sunset!"

"Winterhold is east from here."

"Let us ride off into the sunrise!"


	7. Home Again (Finale)

Thanks to Mister Cuddlesworth for telling me about the formatting error in this chapter. Wouldn't have seen it otherwise.

* * *

Chapter 7: Home Again

* * *

Once again, I was back in the Arcanaeum, and the Archmage was angry at Tolfdir. Well, angry at Tolfdir's sleeping form.

"Tolfdir! Get up, you lazy slug!" The Archmage barked, a scowl on her decidedly more-draconic face.

"Hmmzwah?" Tolfdir started awake at the loud voice. "Whazzat?"

"Tolfdir!"

"Ah, Archmage!" Tolfdir replied jovially, seemingly ignorant of the Archmage's foul temper. "What brings a beautiful young woman like you to see an old man like me?"

"Tolfdir, we've had that conversation already, don't play dumb." She frowned. "Have you been working on my cure or not?"

"Ah, yes, well, you see, Archmage-"

"Don't avoid the question, or I will drop you off the top of the college."

He sighed. "Do you want the good news or the bad news first?"

"What bad news?" she ground out.

"Well, there's two dragon-humanoid hybrids locked up together in the Midden. Associates Onmund and Brelyna agreed to be test subjects for understanding how the process worked so that we could reverse it. As it turns out, approximately an hour of near-constant exposure to the spell will complete the transformation, at which point the scales become so saturated with magic that no more can pass through into the body to continue it."

"This one has a question," I pipe up. "If the magic is already in their body, why is it that the magic must go into their bodies to transform them?"

"An excellent question, J'za-"

"Not now, Tolfdir. I know you love teaching, but I'd like the good news, please."

"Well, a little more bad news, first. The spell seems to also increase libido a significant amount, and in addition to the increased strength and size granted by the transformation..." The ground suddenly begins to tremble slightly below our feet. "Well, we haven't been able to get close enough to them to actually test any of our reversal spells, and we didn't want to risk anyone else ending up like them until we were certain we would be able to easily reverse it.

"The good news, however, is that we've extensively documented how the change progresses throughout both male and female humanoids; determined that it can affect, at the very least, Nords, Dark Elves, and Argonians; and also developed multiple different ways to reverse it - all untested, obviously, until we can get a subject that isn't lust-mad and theoretically strong enough and large enough to crush someone's skull between their thumb and index finger."

She sighed, all anger wiped away by the mixed news. "Since the transformation hasn't gone as far for me, I suppose you'll want me for testing." It was a statement, not a question.

"Of course! Come along, come along! Now, an interesting side effect of the transformation is that they seem to be draining magic from each other and the air around them to avoid needing food or drink of any sort, and..."

As Tolfdir began to drag the Archmage away, she called back to me, "Have some time off, J'zargo! You've earned it!"

I sat down in one of the comfy chairs in the Arcanaeum and grabbed the book I had been reading before I left three months ago. It was good to be back home, even if home was a little… different than usual.

No, there were just some dangerous experiments running around on campus and a high risk of students dying. It was just like normal, or at least as normal as it got for mages.

I wouldn't have it any other way.


End file.
